


enough to make you feel crazy

by from a forgotten time (retweet_this)



Category: Pundit & Broadcast Journalist RPF (US), Real News RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: "Fake" News, Bathroom Sex, Developing Relationship, M/M, Secret Crush, edit: it is now and you're welcome, genuinely surprised Jake Tapper isn't a proper tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:49:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10823139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/retweet_this/pseuds/from%20a%20forgotten%20time
Summary: It starts slow. He should’ve seen it coming.





	enough to make you feel crazy

**Author's Note:**

> Footnotes included for events that may seem obscure. Clicking them isn't necessary, not unless you enjoy listening to either of their voices ~~like I do~~.

It sneaks up on him, really – he doesn’t even realize it’s happening until it’s all but happened. It’s a great thing he’s not an investigative reporter because he sure as hell missed all the signs leading up to, well, this.

It starts slow. He should’ve seen it coming.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[1]It starts with the President-elect refusing to answer questions from CNN and calling the entire organization ‘fake news’, and it starts with Jim coming into Jake’s office, sitting down on the only other chair available, leaning back and staring up at the ceiling and saying, “Promise me you won’t put up anything from the 2016 campaigns up in here.”

Jake gives him a sympathetic look that he probably can’t see. “Can’t promise anything,” he says. “I mean, it was a pretty significant election and in a couple of years, I’m sure the memorabilia would be pretty damn expensive.”

“Expensive, my fucking ass,” Jim grumbles quietly. He covers his face with his hands and lets out a slow sigh. “If I never hear the phrase ‘make America great again’, it’ll be too soon.”

“It’s either that or ‘fake news’, so take your pick,” Jake shrugs.

Jim lets out a groan. He leans back further, stretching out his legs and resting his feet on the desk as he sets his hands behind his head. “I still can’t believe that happened,” he admits. “I mean, if it weren’t for literally everyone messaging me, I wouldn’t believe it actually happened.”

“Think you’ll be sharing your cell with Clinton, then?” Jake asks, and they both chuckle a little. He rests his cheek on his hand and cracks his fingers, watching Jim for a moment. He hasn’t changed out of his clothes from earlier today, his coat and shirt both wrinkled but not in a homely way.

“I just can’t believe we’re going to have to deal with this nonsense for four years,” he sighs, then pauses. “Well, that is if we don’t keep running with this whole Russia thing and uncover something.”

“Woodward and Bernstein didn’t take down a president by sitting on their asses when someone criticized them,” Jake hums.

Jim raises a brow. “You really think I’m going to take this sitting down? Really, Jake?”

Jake shrugs, a little haplessly. “I’m just making sure, Jim,” he says. “I mean, hey, getting called fake by someone like Donald Trump would be a huge shot to my ego.”

“Luckily, my ego is a lot less fragile than yours,” Jim says, but he cracks a grin afterward as a signal that all is forgiven. He slides his feet down and sits up straight. “Hey, do you have anything strong and alcoholic in that desk of yours?”

“You really think I keep Baileys at my desk?” Jake asks. He shakes his head. “No, I’m not _that_ far gone yet.”

“And here I was thinking you were taking your coffee Irish like Wolf’s been for the past couple of years.” His brow furrows and he scratches his chin. “Hey, he’s left for the day, right? Think we could get into his office and drink some of – whatever he has stashed in there?”

Jake rolls his eyes, but he’s getting up anyway and pulling on his coat. “You know,” he says, slowly, “you could always just go home and drink, if you really want to.”

Jim’s halfway through the door but he turns back to give Jake a pointed look. “Do _you_ drink at home, Jake?”

He thinks about it for a second. “No, no I do not.”

“Thought so.”

They’re in the hallway when it finally occurs to Jake to ask, “So, why aren’t you home? It can’t be to drink some of Wolf’s expensive liquor with me.”

“Are you certain?” Jim waggles his brow at him before looking back ahead. “No, you’re right. Zucker wanted me to come in to ask me if I really wanted to remain a White House correspondent, and then he assured me personally that I wouldn’t get fired for what happened today.”

“Is this the part where I help you update your resume?”

Jim laughs. “No, I really think I’m going to make it through this,” he hums. “Anderson called me after and said he’d personally vouch for me if something happened – something about how us silver foxes have to stick together or something like that.”

Jake’s mouth quirks and he lets it unfurl into a full smile. “Well, I’m glad you’re not leaving us yet, Jim.”

“It’s going to take a lot more than some reality TV show host to get me to stop.” Jim’s grin is all but devilish and Jake’s heart skips a beat.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[2]Sean Spicer delivers his first press briefing – if it could even be called that. Dana rubs the bridge of his nose and Wolf reaches under his desk to pull out a bottle of Hennessey and sips from it when the cameras aren’t looking.

“It’s going to be a long four years,” Dana sighs slowly.

Wolf shrugs. “I’ve seen longer.”

“Really?” Jake raises a brow. “You’ve seen something like that press briefing?”

He pauses a moment and then takes a swig from his CNN mug. “You got me there, Tapper.”

“Hey, stop hogging the alcohol,” Dana says. She reaches over and takes a drink from the bottle itself, and Jake wishes he could do the same. He doesn’t, of course, but he wishes he could. God, that would fit the mood incredibly right now.

He calls Jim a while after the conference, just to hear his genuine and honest impression of it. Jim laughs for what feels like half an hour and then says, “Period,” and then Jake’s laughing along with him.

“It’s not funny,” he insists, slight giggles poking through every few seconds. “It’s – it’s quite the opposite, actually. It’s a little, you know, insane.”

“Hilariously so,” Jim says.

“If you think it’s hilarious that the government is going to insist on promoting blatant lies that contradict clear facts.” Jake runs a hand through his hair and takes a breath. “We’re going to have to deal with this nonsense for the next four years.”

Jim laughs, deep and airy. “I say bring it on,” he hums. “Didn’t you think that the Obama administration was too easy to cover?”

“No,” Jake says, after a pause, “I did not once think that.”

“Okay, then forget I said that,” he says. “But hey, now’s the time where you stretch out your fingers, clear you throat, and go back to those j-school basics.”

Jake can’t help but smile a little. “You know, you sound awfully optimistic for someone who was shouted down by the President and called ‘fake news’.”

“It’s one thing to call us fake news, and it’s another to publicly promote _actual_ fake news and then ignore us completely. I, for one, refuse to be ignored like that.” Jim laughs again and it fills Jake up with a sense of – well, what feels like hope.

“You saw the Women’s March, right?” Jim asks him. “You saw all those people reacting to what’s going to happen. Hell, you _definitely_ saw the public’s reaction to the press briefing today. Just based solely on that, I honestly believe we’re going to be fine.” There’s some commotion on the other end, muffled sounds of talking and laughter, and then he says, “All right, I gotta go, but we’ll catch up later, okay?”

“Okay,” Jake says. “Have a good night.” He hangs up and sets his phone on the counter, finally pouring milk into his waiting coffee. It’s gone cold now but he still drinks it with a smile. People say Wolf and Anderson have soothing voices but obviously, they’ve never been on the receiving end of one of Jim’s pep talks.

If that even was a pep talk. It sounded like a pep talk, but then again, that could’ve just been his interpretation of it. Why is he overthinking this so much?

Jen walks into the kitchen, jerking him out of his thoughts. She kisses his cheek and leans over him to grab a plate from a cabinet. “Who were you talking to?”

“Jim,” he says. He turns around and leans back against the counter, hands futile warming his mug. “We were just talking about the press briefing today.”

“Oh, yeah, _everyone_ is talking about that,” she says. “Didn’t everyone think he was going to be normal or something – or, well, comparatively so.”

“I think we should’ve learned from the election not to make any assumptions,” he says, bringing his cup to his lips.

“True, true,” Jen nods. She pulls open the fridge and stands there for a moment, before turning over to look at him. “Jim is pretty cute, isn’t he?”

Jake spills his coffee all over himself and Winston runs over to lap it off his feet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[3]The first commercial break after Jake’s interview with – or, maybe, depending on who you ask, interrogation of – Kellyanne, Wolf walks over from his studio to Jake’s. He puts a hand on his shoulder and sets a bottle down on the desk.

“You’re going to need it,” he says in all seriousness, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes and Jake has to stifle a laugh, watching him rush back before the break ends.

Dana texts him right after, just a couple of surprise emojis and then, _Damn, you know you’re doing good when they don’t cut you off with commercials._

 _Not when it’s a commercial for your network_ , Jake texts back, and he adds a winking face at the end. He’s ready to put his phone away – he knows that he’s going to be bombarded with people either congratulating him or telling him he’s ‘fake news’, a term that is quickly losing whatever meaning it might’ve had – but then there’s a text from Jim.

_Please let me buy you a drink for that excellent display_

And so, Jake finds himself at a bar, somewhere lowkey enough where they wouldn’t be recognized by tourists and classy enough that whatever tourists wandered in wouldn’t start snapping pictures.

Jim has a ridiculous grin on his face when he sets his drink down and Jake thinks his heart skips a beat. There’s something about being on the receiving end of that bright and beautiful smile that he finds almost unsettling. Or, maybe, too settling.

He clears his throat. “You know, Zucker is taking me and Jen out to dinner because of this whole thing,” he points out.

“I figured he’d be doing something like that,” Jim says, still smiling. He takes another sip. “But I wanted to reward you personally – I mean, come on, that was _fantastic_.”

“You and Dana keep making this a huge deal out of this,” Jake huffs, trying to keep the pink out of his cheeks. “It was nothing, really. All I was doing was what I usually do and Kellyanne was just doing what she normally does, and it just… somehow exploded.”

“Explosion might be an exaggeration, but it was sure something,” Jim hums. “It was definitely _not_ nothing – if it were, your phone wouldn’t be vibrating off the edge of the table.”

“Shit.” Jake quickly grabs it and puts it on silent. “I keep forgetting to turn off notifications when I go out of the studio.”

“Sure you don’t just like the sound of people talking about you on Twitter?” Jim asks, raising a brow. Jake rolls his eyes and they laugh together.

Jim nudges his arm gently, then raises his glass. “To the realest fake news in the country?”

“To alternative facts,” Jake hums, and clinks their drinks together.

[4]It’s about a week later when Jim’s the one getting celebrated for standing up to an administration official – except this time it’s the President and this time the celebration is down in the cafeteria with cheap beer in plastic seats.

“Fuck, Jim,” Dana says, shaking her head, “if he didn’t hate you before, I’m pretty sure you’re never going to get another question ever again.”

Jim shrugs easily. “If the administration doesn’t hate us, then we’re probably not doing our jobs right. Isn’t that right, Jake?” He catches his eye while Jake’s walking across, refilling his mug, and shoots him another bright grin.

“Absolutely,” Jake says, and he smiles back.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[5]There’s a commercial break right after the latest press briefing, cutting into the time Jake has on his show, but he takes a moment to send a text to Jim.

 _For what it’s worth_ , he types, _I think you have plenty of intelligence._

The reply comes seconds later. _Thanks, Jake. That’s worth a lot._

It takes a couple of moments for Jake to stop smiling. That’s the moment that should’ve clued him in, really, but no, not yet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[6]Jake’s sitting on the couch, idly scrolling through Twitter while Winston curls into his lap, when he sees several people wishing Jim a happy birthday.

“Oh, _shit_ ,” Jake says aloud. He slaps his forehead and leans back with a sigh. “I mean, aw, _crap_.”

Jen sticks her head into the room. “What happened?” she asks, voice laced with concern that the situation doesn’t exactly deserve.

“It’s Jim’s birthday,” he replies. “Today, if that wasn’t clear.”

“Oh,” she says. She shrugs and sits down on the couch, pulling Winston over and scratching his back. “Well, wish him happy birthday for me.”

“I didn’t get him anything. Hell, I even forgot it _was_ his birthday,” Jake says. He gets up and goes to grab his jacket, feeling Jen’s eyes on him as he bends down to pull on his shoes. “I’ll be right back.”

“Right back?” Jen repeats. “Jake, seriously, you can just call him tonight and get him something tomorrow. It’ll be fine.”

He shakes his head. “It won’t be his birthday then,” he says, as though that justifies everything. He rushes back to give her a quick peck on the lips, then heads out the door and into the cool night.

It takes a while for him to get a present and then find Jim so he could deliver it to him. Shops are mostly closed by the time Jake heads out to the town but he does manage to find a nice-looking tie at a department store more than willing to delay their closing just to help out a guy like him.

He knocks on Jim’s door and takes a moment to reflect on the relative absurdity of the situation – here he is, at a quarter past ten, standing outside a coworker’s door to deliver a tie that he just bought for the coworker’s birthday.

 _I shouldn’t be here_ , he thinks, and then the door opens and Jim opens the door. He looks pretty tired, lines under his eyes and a certain exhaustion to his demeanor, but his face lights up when he sees Jake and he gives him a genuine smile. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Jake says. Words seem to have failed him for the moment and wouldn’t it be great if there were a teleprompter here somewhere? He clears his throat and holds out the box. “Uh… happy birthday. Sorry I didn’t deliver this earlier or something – I, uh… didn’t want to forget.”

“I’m guessing you forgot earlier?” Jim raises a brow and laughs when Jake averts his gaze with a meek chuckle. He takes the box and smiles again. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do any of this and I really appreciate the gesture.”

“And not the gift?” Jake says, and they laugh again. He shakes his head. “It’s no big deal, really. I, uh, hope you like it.”

He’s just about to turn away when Jim says, “Are you sure you don’t want to come inside? Everyone’s still awake, even the kids.”

“Isn’t tomorrow a school night?”

“Yeah, try telling them that. Sharon says they take after their father and I’m inclined to agree with her.” He chuckles and the look he gives Jake is full of such unabashed fondness that, for a second, Jake doesn’t think he can breathe. “At least take some cake back with you – we’ve got plenty here. I’m sure Jen would love some. Hey, guys, where’s the Tupperware?”

Jake watches him, hand extended in a futile attempt at stopping him as he heads back inside, before slowly lowering it and staring at the empty doorway. And that’s when it hits him that he might be a little bit in love.

He _really_ should’ve seen it coming.

Jim returns a couple of minutes later, box in hand filled with what looks like half of a decent-sized cake, and their fingers brush when Jake takes it. He sputters out a quick thank-you and quickly heads back to his car. He doesn’t dare look back.

The kids are fast asleep when he gets back and Jen is watching something on TV. Jake sets the cake on the table and takes a seat beside her. He lets out a slow breath. “Yeah.”

She raises a brow. “Yeah what?”

“Yeah, Jim is pretty cute.”

Jake’s pretty sure she’s going to wake up the kids with how hard she’s laughing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[7]He is going to focus on how absurd it is for the White House to blame the previous administration for what’s happened to their ex-National Security Advisor. He really is.

It’s just that Jim was wearing the tie he gave him during the press briefing that day.

He texts Jen about it after the show – because who the hell else is he going to talk to about it – and she just sends him a string of laughing emojis.

“Why are you looking at your phone with an expression of utter contempt?” Wolf asks him during a commercial break.

“My wife,” Jake replies, as simple as that.

“Say no more,” Wolf says, and he gestures his mug to him before talking a long sip.

Dana just gives him a look. “You know, I’m sure whatever it was, it was your fault.”

Jake looks back at his phone and then up at her. “Oh, you have no idea.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[8] “It’s the first time I’m going to be at two Correspondents’ Dinners on one night,” Jake muses aloud, arm around Jen as the cameras flash.

“Jake,” Jen says, her eye-roll evident in her tone, “it says right in the title that this is _not_ the Correspondents’ Dinner.”

“You know I’m notoriously illiterate, right?” He kisses the corner of her mouth when she laughs and they step into the main hall together. People are still mingling, still talking, still drinking, and Jake’s completely prepared to go around and catch up with old friends.

Except Jim comes into his line of sight and his mind goes completely blank. He's wearing a well-fitting suit, more than a little tight around the ass (not that Jake is looking - ah, fuck, who's he kidding, he's definitely looking) and his head is thrown back a little as he laughs at something Hassan Minhaj is saying.

And then Jim turns his head and he sees Jake and he gives him one of those smiles, those smiles that light up an entire room, and Jake says, “I have to go.”

Jen, who seems to have not seen Jim or the way he looks tonight, furrows her brow. “But we just got here. The thing hasn’t even started yet.”

“Bathroom,” Jake says and he all but runs away, taking a couple of moments to actually find where the bathroom is and offhandedly responding to inquiries from people asking if he’s okay because his face is red and he doesn’t look okay and did he eat the shrimp because the shrimp looked kind of sketchy but why would TBS skimp out on the shrimp – or, rather, _shrimp_ out on the shrimp, huh, huh, why isn’t he laughing that was a hilarious joke.

The bathroom is blessedly empty when he gets there – a rare feat, considering that there’s a shit ton of people here today – and he takes a moment to wash his face and look at himself in the mirror. The first – and maybe only thing – that comes to mind is that this reminds him so much of when he asked Jen out on their first date.

“I’m so fucked,” he says out loud, and then the door opens.

“Jake?” Jim steps inside, face full of concern and fuck if that doesn’t make him look as cute as he does on a regular basis, and he takes a step toward him. “Hey, are you all right? You looked kind of… sick, when I saw you earlier and then Jen told me you went to the bathroom and well…” He purses his lips. “Are you all right?”

Jake shakes his hands dry and idly notices that he’s gotten part of his tie wet. _That sucks_ , he thinks, and then turns back to face Jim. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

And then Jake reaches out and pulls him in for a kiss. There’s no thought, no foresight, nothing – just one second they’re talking and then next, they’re kissing. It’s a little wet, because Jake’s face is still wet, but it gets better once Jim gets over his initial shock and starts kissing back.

Jim is a _phenomenal_ kisser and Jake thinks he’s moaning a little as his hands grip the back of Jim’s head, fingers curled around his hair. He’s pressed up against the wall, between sinks, and Jim is sucking on his lower lip. His hands are cupping his face and his leg is between Jake’s and there’s no way in hell he doesn’t notice the huge hard-on Jake has right now.

He gets that confirmation when Jim slides his hand up his thigh, slow and deliberate, and whatever clicked or unclicked in Jake’s head when he decided to kiss him seems to have undone itself because the moment their lips part, Jake is pushing him away and then –

And then he finds himself leaning against a wall somewhere, hands shaking and breathing heavily. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to make it look like someone else’s hands hadn’t just been running through it while they made out in a bathroom, and he’s afraid to look at himself to see how thoroughly kissed he probably looks.

His lips are tingling. He can’t stop thinking about it. Fuck.

“Jake?” Dana walks over and Jake’s first thought is, _fuck, am I going to make out with her too?_ , until he remembers that no, he respects her as a friend, and he’s made his mistake already once today – he’s not going to do it again.

He takes a deep breath and dusts off his coat. “Yeah?”

“Where have you been?” she asks. “Jen and Jim are looking everywhere for you. Said you were in the bathroom looking sick or something.”

“Stomach ache,” Jake explains, and he hopes that the sheepishness of his expression is enough to convince her that he’s genuine. And, admittedly, he does feel like he’s going to throw up except that would take the taste of Jim out of his mouth and fuck, can he please stop thinking like a lovelorn teenager?

“It was probably the shrimp,” Dana says, wisely, and she takes his arm as they make their way back to the main hall.

Jen and Jim are standing by the entrance, close together and expressions unreadable, and they turn their heads simultaneously when Jake walks through. Jim’s expression is one of concern and sympathy and something else, and Jake is all but certain he’s going to throw up for real, but then there’s an announcement that the event is going to start soon and Dana lets go of his arm, to be replaced by Jen.

“Come on,” she says softly, “let’s go find our seats.”

Jake watches Jim walk away and says, “Okay.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He’s not sure what’s worse – the fact that Jen doesn’t say anything about his trip to the bathroom or her conversation with Jim, or the fact that she doesn’t even look angry at him for, well, whatever. He’s pretty sure she knows what happened, she knows him so well, after all, but the uncertainty of it all keeps his stomach churning uncomfortably.

“Are you okay?” he finally asks, once they’re in the hall for the real Correspondent’s Dinner.

She raises her brow at him. “Why wouldn’t I be?” There’s a lot he could say in response, but then she looks away and says, “Oh, look, there’s Jim.”

And then Jim is walking over, charming demeanor and even more charming smile. “Hey,” he hums.

Jake feels like his heart is going to fall out of his ass or something. He clears his throat and says, slowly, “Uh… hi.”

Jen rolls her eyes. “Jake’s not feeling all that well tonight,” she says, patting his shoulder. “Mind escorting him to the bathroom while I keep Peter and his wife company?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Jim takes Jake’s arm and pulls him along, walking slowly but with a certain urgency that makes Jake think he’s either in for a serious and potentially friendship-ending discussion, or Jim genuinely thinks that Jake’s about to throw up. Either is plausible, because Jake also thinks he’s about to throw up.

It’s a really good thing years of practice have let him control his outward emotions at least ninety percent of the time because otherwise the panic on his face would be more than obvious.

Once again, the bathroom is conspicuously empty – probably because people just got here and there’s no questionable shrimp – and Jake wipes his face as he turns to face Jim. “Look, what happened at the other dinner, I just…”

Jake stops talking because Jim kisses him. It’s a short, sweet kiss and it might’ve lasted a lifetime, and they pull apart slowly. Jim keeps his face close, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth. His hands are soft and his smile is gentle and if Jake’s brain were a computer, he would’ve thrown it out by now and bought a new one.

“Uh,” he says, eloquently.

“And here I was expecting some fancy Jake Tapper clapback,” Jim laughs.

Jake rolls his eyes and his lips quirk. “You caught me off-guard,” he retorts. “And plus, you’re – well, you’re hot and you just kissed me.”

Jim shakes his head and squeezes Jake’s shoulder. Their faces are still close and Jake can feel the shaky breath he lets out. “That might be one of the greatest compliments I’ve ever received,” he grins. “And Trump did call me a real beauty.”

“Oh my god, why did you have to bring him up?” Jake says, letting out a genuine snort as he nudges Jim’s arm. “You’re ridiculous. I don’t know why I kissed you.”

“My impeccable sense of humor and hot voice?” Jim asks, raising his brows.

“Okay, you’re really pushing it now.”

His grin isn’t diminished at all and he leans even closer, until they’re breathing in each other’s air. “Jake,” he says, slowly, in his best newscaster voice, “may I take you into one of these stalls and thoroughly ravish you?”

“I would like that very much,” Jake replies in kind.

They meet in the middle for the kiss. Jim cards his fingers through Jake’s hair and Jake has to hold on to Jim’s coat to keep himself from falling when his knees go weak. They fumble their way into a stall, hands undoing buttons and mouths moving to kiss whatever piece of skin they can find.

Jim lifts up his collar and sucks in a bruise into the nape of his neck. “Oh, fuck,” Jake mumbles, already breathless. He moves until his back is pressed against a wall and he moves to start pulling down Jim’s pants, but a hand swats him away.

“Condom,” he says, by way of explanation.

Jake raises a brow. “Condom?”

“Had them.”

“I see,” Jake nods, then pauses. “Lube?”

“Jen,” Jim replies.

“Of course,” Jake scoffs. He lets out a chuckle. “You know, for two journalists, we’re kind of at a loss for words.”

Jim rolls his eyes. “I’ll show you a loss of words,” he says, then kisses the side of Jake’s jaw. His hands slide up his shirt and tease at his nipples, rubbing them between his fingers and giving one a quick pinch, and Jake curls his toes as he moans softly.

He pushes his pants and underwear down to his ankles, praying there isn’t some sort of stain-inducing liquid beneath them, while Jim rips open the pack of lube and shoves the wrapper into one of the bins. Jake puts his hands on his shoulder and bites down on his lower lip when he feels fingers around his hole.

“It’s okay,” Jim says, voice low and deep, even as Jake’s fingers start digging into his back. “I’ve got you.” He starts out slow, just moving in and out, before spreading them and moving in deeper. Jake’s legs spread, almost subconsciously, and he thinks his eyes roll into the back of his head when he feels pressure on his prostate.

Forget leaks on the floor – he hopes he won’t get cum stains on his clothes.

He doesn’t know how much time has passed when Jim asks, “Okay, how are you feeling, Jake? You want me to fuck you now?”

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you to fuck me,” Jake retorts with a smirk, but it quickly dissipates into a slight whine when Jim removes his fingers. Some more wrappers are opened and tossed aside and Jake helps pull a condom on his own aching dick.

His eyes are closed and his head is pressed back and he doesn’t bother to muffle himself when Jim grips his hips and slowly pushes into him. “Oh, fuck,” he says. “Oh, _fuck,_ oh, god.”

Jim actually laughs, just a little, his movements picking up speed. He kisses right beside the bruise he just made and Jake tries not to tighten his grip on the back of his neck too much. He tilts his head and then they’re kissing again, softly, a tad desperately.

It doesn’t take long for him to come, and Jake thinks he sees stars. Jim comes a few moments after and then they’re just standing like that, still pressed against each other. The air between them is hot and heavy and his face is slick with sweat but Jim’s eyes sparkle and Jake can’t help but smile.

They probably would’ve stayed like that all night, had the door not opened and someone turned on the sink. It’s a miracle that neither of their faces turn pink, but there is some light embarrassment and amusement evident in Jim’s expression.

“Hey,” he whispers in Jake’s ear, “you know, our love song would probably have to be ‘Fake Love’ by Drake. Since, you know, we’re fake news.”

Jake covers Jim’s mouth and Jim covers his and they both struggle not to laugh. Jake lowers his hand a little and Jim gives him that devastating smile again and Jake knows he’s in way too deep to regret this.

And he doesn’t. He doesn’t. Not one bit.

* * *

1 Days before the inauguration, in a [now-infamous exchange](http://thehill.com/homenews/administration/313777-trump-berates-cnn-reporter-for-fake-news), then-President-elect Trump called Jim Acosta and CNN ‘fake news’ and refused to answer any questions from them.  [ return to text ]

2 Sean Spicer’s [first press briefing](http://www.cnbc.com/2017/01/23/sean-spicer-white-house-press-conference.html), where he took no questions and made some grandiose claims about crowd sizes.  [ return to text ]

2 Another [now-infamous exchange](http://www.cnn.com/2017/02/07/politics/kellyanne-conway-jake-tapper-interview-cnntv/), with Jake Tapper refuting Conway’s and the White House’s claims.  [ return to text ]

4 Less famous as their other exchanges, but [here](http://money.cnn.com/2017/02/16/media/jim-acosta-donald-trump-press-conference/), Trump and Acosta go head to head again, specifically on the matter of being called ‘fake news’.  [ return to text ]

5 During a [press briefing](http://www.cnn.com/videos/politics/2017/03/16/spicer-acosta-wiretapping-claim-sot.cnn), Spicer insinuated that Acosta “has zero intelligence”, though later clarifying that he meant “intelligence clearing”, but adding, “maybe both.”  [ return to text ]

6 The day of the White House Easter Egg Roll was also Acosta’s birthday, and [here](http://www.cnn.com/videos/us/2017/04/17/sean-spicer-jim-acosta-snl-sg-mobile-orig.cnn) is a somewhat awkward exchange between Spicer and Acosta on that day. (Note – their birthdays are only a few months apart. It’s not that much.)  [ return to text ]

7 Yet another classic [press briefing](https://www.buzzfeed.com/stephaniemcneal/sean-spicer-blamed-obama-for-failing-to-vet-flynn?utm_term=.lpnkgo9wx#.ranerxvRL), where Spicer and Acosta yet again go head to head – this time, on the matter of how the White House now blames the Obama administration for not properly vetting Michael Flynn.  [ return to text ]

8 Just some [fun moments](http://www.vanityfair.com/hollywood/2017/04/samantha-bee-not-the-white-house-correspondents-dinner-trump-best-jokes) from the Not The White House Correspondents’ Dinner, which happened earlier on the same day as the actual White House Correspondents’ Dinner.  [ return to text ]

Not linked in the text but about Trump calling Acosta “a real beauty”? [Oh yeah, it happened](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s7HP5qXJmuk).

**Author's Note:**

> I have mixed feelings about CNN as a whole (for example, today, when the House voted for the ACHA, which would be devastating for so many people, their website called it a win for the President), but there are plenty of journalists there who are good eggs.


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